


Of Disbelief

by jax-ambrose (Jei_Stark)



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Complete, Holding Hands, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Late Night Conversations, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 08:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18617389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jei_Stark/pseuds/jax-ambrose
Summary: It's three in the morning when Seth breaks the news about Roman's suspension to Dean, and they're both too exhausted to fight about it.[Takes place on the night of Monday, June 20, 2016. Dean cashed in his Money In The Bank briefcase to become WWE World Heavyweight Champion the night before, and on June 20's RAW a Shield triple threat match for his title is set for the upcoming Battleground PPV. Roman's 30 day suspension for violating the wellness policy is announced the next day.]





	Of Disbelief

**Author's Note:**

> [I found a giant pile of unposted fics. This is one of them. Written in 2016.]
> 
> Wanted to write about Roman's suspension from a kayfabe perspective, as the suspension itself is kayfabe canon. Rated Teen for language because a) Dean's got the most casual of foul mouths, and b) allusions to sexytimes and reference to drug use.
> 
> Caution: rusty, sloppy, and un-beta'd. Also wordier and quieter than I'm used to writing with these two. Not sure if it's because I haven't written for the boys in a while or because I haven't written *anything* in a while. Or possibly because I wrote this at 6AM. I was sleepy, and thus so were these boys.

"Open up, Ambrose!"

An exhausted Dean in nothing but boxers swung his hotel room door open at about three in the morning to, surprisingly, a blustery and aggravated Seth Rollins. The former champion's hair was still damp and disheveled from Raw a few hours ago -- hell, he was still wearing his in-ring pants, so he likely hadn't even showered yet. Sadly, Dean was far too exhausted to smirk at the fact that, for once, he was physically cleaner than the usually immaculate Seth. Seth, who now swirled angrily into his room as if he still belonged in it, as if it were still their room and Seth had simply forgotten his key and gotten annoyed at himself for it. Dean would've been amused at the entire situation, really, if it weren't so damn late at night and an early morning interview hadn't been scheduled for tomorrow. The 'perks' of being the champion, and one whom a certain Stephanie McMahon didn't exactly think was best for business, hence the too-early interviews she always hoped he'd miss. For a second, Dean wondered if Stephanie had sent Seth specifically to fuck with his already-fucked sleep schedule.

Staring out blearily into the hallway, Dean blinked, poked his head out the door to take a suspicious look around, frowned, retreated and shut the door quietly. "Come right in, I guess," he murmured to himself, "why the hell not."

He turned on a barefoot heel and leaned against the door, watching Seth pace in front of the queen bed as he fumed silently. Yeah, queen bed now, not twin. Sure, he could've had a fancy suite upstairs, but if Dean were being perfectly honest with himself he probably would've just eaten the pillow mints and raided the wet bar, and he could do the same to the bar down the street with more familiar and comfortable ambience. (Seth used to be part of that ambience, that weird comfort Dean had labeled 'home' in his head. But seeing him in the room now just made things feel... too warm. Claustrophobic, even. There was an ever-present pit in Dean's stomach, and it ached around Seth. It hummed quietly around Roman, always did, but with Seth it would spike like gnashing teeth.)

"Did you know?" Seth had stuttered to a stop and was now staring accusingly. There was a fire in his eyes, two parts angry and one part frustrated tears. Dean had seen it before, right at their turning point. After the chair shots -- The Betrayal, Dean's brain had labeled it, capitalized and everything.

"I know a lotta things," Dean drawled slowly, both from exhaustion and wariness. "Gotta be a little more specific if you want me to confess to somethin' at ass-o-clock in the morning."

Seth blinked hard and unclenched his jaw, finally taking a moment to look around the mostly bare room: Dean's gym bag was settled at the door of the bathroom, and a pair of worn jeans were on the floor between them. One of Dean's socks was sitting on the table, and the other was probably somewhere under the bed. Maybe. Dean wasn't exactly sure where his socks went at night. Seth swallowed visibly, looking for all the world as if he were just as lost as those damn socks. "You still throw your clothes everywhere," he stated absently, voice having lost most of its edge.

Dean snorted, shuffling barefoot to the bed and flopping down to sit. "My room, my clothes, I can do what I want. Even more now that I'm champion." He kept his tone even. Much as he liked fucking with Seth (for a given definition of 'like', anyway), it really was ass-o-clock, and a fist fight now would mean a shitty interview in the morning. "You gonna tell me what this is about? Or you just here to whine incoherently and keep me from sleepin'? Cuz if I wanted to hear incoherent whining I'd call up Jericho."

That absurd thought seemed to snap Seth out of his own thoughts well enough, and he raised a doubtful eyebrow. "You have Jericho's number?" he asked, nose wrinkling at the name.

Dean shrugged, folding his hands behind his head as he leaned back on the headboard. "Gave it to me back when he wanted to be buddies."

"I can't imagine you being friends with him," Seth murmured evenly.

"I was friends with you." Dean shrugged again, feigning neutrality, testing the waters. "Everybody makes mistakes."

Dean watched Seth's jaw clench and unclench again, but otherwise Seth made no move to speak or move. It was weird, Seth not taking that bait, and Dean wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable with that, pit in his stomach or no. Seth stood there for a while longer, blinking rapidly. Just when Dean was about to break the weird, uncharacteristic silence with some kind of raunchy joke about what he'd do with the title now that he finally had the damn thing in his possession--

"Did you know he was using?"

It was Dean's turn to blink, more in confusion than anything else. "Who, Jericho?"

Any other conversation would've seen Seth roll his eyes and correct him as if he were teaching a particularly dense and petulant child. Instead, there was strained neutrality: "Roman."

The pit in Dean's stomach grew about fifty times larger, and he must have had some kind of completely worrying look on his face, because Seth's look softened, brows unfurrowing, voice growing soft, almost apologetic -- no, entirely apologetic. Jesus, but that almost felt worse.

"You didn't know? He didn't...?"

"Tell me? Fuck." Dean leaned forward, running a hand through already messy hair, his mouth running while his brain attempted to tell his stomach to stop feeling like a black hole. "Haven't talked to him in a while. We don't, uh... we haven't moved in the same circles for a while now." Which was a hard thing to admit, especially sitting in a cold bed and telling his former friend/brother/whatever-else-they'd-been. _Sure, here's my weakness,_ it seemed to say. _Feel free to exploit it whenever you want._ As if Seth didn't already have enough on that particular list. Then again, Dean wasn't one to pull punches or hide much of anything.

In his defense, Seth didn't seem to jump on that weakness at all. In fact, he nodded in acknowledgement instead, sitting himself gingerly at the edge of the bed. "The title, it... it changes people. Or brings the real people out. I don't know. Little bit of both, I guess."

"Well it made him a dick," Dean responded flatly, leveling a steady gaze at Seth, closing that particular subject, at least for now. One thing to talk about this, and a whole other kettle of rotten fish to talk about it with Seth. Not that talking about the current subject was any better. "So what'd he get popped for?"

It was Seth's turn to shrug, but it was less noncommittal and more plain helpless. The honesty was refreshing. And jarring. "I wish I knew, but Authority isn't saying. He's out for thirty."

Dean blinked, staring at Seth warily. "Did you come here cuz you thought I had somethin' to do with--"

"No, no _god_ no." Seth was quick to shoot that down, to his credit. Which was nice, Dean admitted to himself begrudgingly. It was good to know some subjects were still off limits, even if they were constantly two steps away from beating the crap out of each other. "I just needed to know if you knew and... and didn't do anything about it."

Dean didn't even bother raising an eyebrow. "You know my history. You tell me."

Seth pursed his lips in frustration. "Look, I don't know _what_ I was thinking," he finally admitted, dropping his shoulders and letting out a breath he probably didn't know he was holding. "I guess I panicked. Heard what happened and I just..." He handwaved, visibly searching for the words. "I needed to know if you knew. And if you didn't, I had to be the one to tell you."

"Yeah, well thanks, I guess. Better you than a McMahon, anyway." Dean sighed, scrubbing his face hard. As tired as he was, sleep wasn't going to come easily now. Not for the next thirty days. "Who else knows? They announce it already or...?"

"Authority only for now. I was just in the right place at the right time to overhear it. I'm pretty sure they're gonna announce it in the morning. Policy," Seth added as a distracted afterthought.

"Alright."

Dean let out what felt like the longest, heaviest sigh in the world, and he flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling. It had only been months ago when he'd been staring at an entirely different ceiling, the weight of Roman's body sinking the other side of the bed as they told ghost stories in the dark, fingers entwined, waiting for sleep to claim them both. How did things get from there to here? To Seth, of all the people in the goddamn world, being the one to tell him about this?

He felt the bed shift next to him, and he turned to watch Seth settle slowly, carefully, onto his side of the bed -- or what used to be his side. Maybe it always would be. That pit in Dean's stomach twisted, churned, and swallowed his heart. He guessed there'd be a lot of that feeling for the next thirty days.

"You were angry when you came in," Dean drawled quietly, watching Seth for any sign of a reaction. Yeah, sure, okay, so he was also cataloguing how Seth looked now. Beard a little scruffier, the blonde hair streak all but gone, nothing but the barest hint of gold at the tips. Bags under his eyes, but that could just be the time of night. Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe Dean wasn't the only one feeling like the entire world had turned upside down.

Seth kept his own eyes on the ceiling, hands folded neatly over his chest. "I was. I still am, honestly."

Dean wasn't even sure if Seth had meant that to be some kind of bait, but he was going to take it anyway. The world was spinning a little bit faster, a little bit lopsided, and if they were both lucky tonight's conversation would disappear in a puff of smoke once morning came. "You wrote us both off. Why d'you even care?"

He hadn't meant it to sound quite so melodramatic, but there it was, so fuck it.

Seth rolled his eyes and tilted his head slightly, enough to glance at Dean. "Just because we're not around each other anymore doesn't mean I don't give a shit."

Well, now it was time for Dean's eyebrow to rise high as a kite. "Curbstomped my head onto cinder blocks, dude."

"That was just... business," Seth muttered defensively, trailing off weakly.

Dean groaned, throwing one arm over his eyes. "I'm way too tired to punch you in the face right now, so how about we just pretend I did, alright?"

"I'm serious, Dean. I feel like... I don't know, like maybe this is my fault." Dean kept his arm over his face but still felt Seth shift slightly. He always did get fidgety in bed. "Maybe I pushed him too hard. Maybe I didn't do enough when we were all still a team."

"How about maybe he shouldn't have been a goddamn dick when he finally got his hands on that title," Dean spat, most of his annoyance hidden under exhaustion. "And maybe I'd have stuck around, and maybe he wouldn't have had the opportunity to do whatever the hell he did to piss hot, and..." Dean felt Seth's arm against his as he shifted again, and the skin contact turned his brain off for long enough for him to forget the rest of his sentence.

"Well he's not answering my texts, _obviously,_ so if you want to know what he did, ball's in your court."

Dean finally moved his arm off his face, the desk lamp's light temporarily making him squint. "You texted him," he said, flatly.

"I was angry." Apparently it was all the answer Seth deemed fit to give.

Dean's grumble shifted into a tired grunt as he half rolled over in Seth's direction, grabbing his phone from the opposite nightstand. Seth stiffened at the contact of Dean's arm on his bare chest, and Dean rolled his eyes despite his own heart squeezing hard. Settling back onto his side of the bed, Dean prodded the touch screen with a fat index finger, poking out a simple text. There was still a chance it wouldn't be answered, but if Seth tried, Seth of all people, then so would he. "There, asked." With that, he tossed the phone onto the nightstand on his own side. Much as he liked the idea of constantly rolling onto Seth to get to his phone, he also didn't like it at all. Or liked it too much. One of those things. (Both.)

There was a flash of disappointment on Seth's face before he schooled it into something more neutral, and he shrugged. "Well now that it's a matter of waiting for him to answer you, I should... probably go."

"What, you don't wanna stick around, hear what he's gonna say?" Dean tried his best to turn that into a tired drawl, and yet the words still tumbled out quicker than he intended. But slow panic turned on the promo switch in his head, and he licked his lips before adding, "I mean... you can't have _that_ much to do at three in the morning, _ex-champ_."

Seth seemed to relax even as he shot Dean a withering look. Familiar sniping was, apparently, far more comfortable territory to the both of them now. "Guess I should stay. Saves me the return trip to find out what he said. I really don't wanna have to come back here."

"S'whatcha get for deleting my number."

Seth rolled his eyes. "You never even used your phone!"

"Totally used it. Just not for you." Dean grinned, all dimples and batting eyelashes.

Seth groaned, scrubbing his face with both hands and muttering through loose fingers. "I hate you so much."

Dean thumped his head lightly on the too-fluffed hotel pillow before replying quietly. Or maybe just talking to himself. "Nah. You don't."

Seth grunted but chose not to answer, instead settling into the mattress, squirming to find the right spot.

 

-*-*-

 

Five in the morning.

Dean didn't quite know how it happened, but Seth was laying next to him in bed, hands between them tangling too easily, fingers twining together as if they'd never stopped. As if Seth's hands had never held that steel chair. That moment felt so far away now. Everything felt so far away.

Roman felt _too_ far away.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and Dean's free hand thumbed through to the new text. _**Not anyone's business**_ , the reply read. Another one followed a second later: _**Seth tell you?**_

Dean poked out a terse _**yeah**_ before adding, _**hes pretty pissed, didnt even shower**_. The vision of an unshowered and annoyed Seth was an olive branch, considering Seth's almost OCD-like attention to cleanliness.

Roman's answer came quickly. _**Surprised you're on speaking terms.**_

 _ **not really**_ , Dean poked out slowly. He almost wanted to add an explanation, but he didn't know what he'd say -- and anyway, Dean's bed was Dean's business. Not that anything had happened other than a conversation and a nap, but the fact remained.

_**You angry?** _

_**dunno**_ , Dean slid his thumb over each letter carefully. _**should I be?**_

Visions of all sorts of different drug binges flew through Dean's mind, some of them all too familiar, and for a moment, Dean's insistence to Seth earlier that night -- that Roman wasn't using anything hard and probably got caught on a prescription receipt handed in too late -- faltered and dissipated like so much hot air. Maybe that was Seth's intention, coming to his room and telling him the news in an angry bewildered panic the way he did. Maybe the whole point was to keep Dean off balance, to use Roman against him now that they were on separate brands, to divide them even more. Maybe someone got Roman on something, or slipped something into a drink, or...

Dean bit the inside of his cheek hard, forcing his brain to concentrate on the pain prick, the coppery taste mixing with what little saliva he had on his tongue. Roman's reply was taking longer this time, long enough for Dean to glance at Seth's sleeping form, his face finally relaxed into some semblance of peace. Dean squeezed Seth's hand just a fraction.

The buzz of his phone startled Dean, and he squinted to read the text. _**It's not like that. Not what you're thinking.**_

 _ **so what isit ?**_ Dean shot back as quickly as he could with one thumb. He wasn't the best of typers on a good day, not even with a full keyboard and both hands, but so long as it was understandable, he didn't much care how it looked.

_**I'll call you this week.** _

Dean fought the urge to groan in exasperation. _**hate talkng on phones**_ , he finally replied.

_**You don't have the time to fly here, and I can't go there.** _

_**hate u just for makin me talk on a dam tiny ass smart phon. not forgivin u for this**_ , Dean tapped out as quickly as he could with one thumb, still not entirely ready to relinquish Seth's hand. Seth was actually manageable when asleep, so Dean could readily admit not having anything against the sleeping version of his ex-brother.

There was a short pause before Roman's answer came up. _**Love you too, uce.**_

 _ **nite u big fat dick**_ was about as close to a 'love you too' as Dean was going to get in a text, but Roman knew this.

One _**LOL**_ reply later, Dean tossed the phone back onto the nightstand and settled back into the sheets, bringing Seth's hand up to his chest -- his hand-holding arm was getting a little cramped with all the lack of movement.

"Mmn. What he say." One of Seth's eyes was open and peering at Dean blearily.

Dean made no move to give Seth's hand back. "Said he'd call during the week."

"You tell him I was here?"

"Ehh, he knew."

Seth made a pensive noise in the back of his throat but said nothing else. His eyes slid to his hand in Dean's, and his fingers flexed tentatively. Dean flexed his back, squeezing lightly.

"I should go," Seth murmured, but he made no move to do so.

"Yeah." Dean's fingers squeezed more tightly around Seth's hand. "In the morning. G'back to sleep. World's not gonna end if you stay."

"You dunno that," Seth replied with a slow, sleepy smirk, eyes fluttering closed again.

It took a full minute of listening to Seth's even breathing before Dean let his own eyes close. "Nope. I don't."


End file.
